


Swordplay

by Tripsoverhercats (MissTrips)



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Using Swords as a Sex Toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTrips/pseuds/Tripsoverhercats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-fight fight of a different nature.</p>
<p>Originally written in 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swordplay

Nothing quite riled the collective anger of the Straw Hats like seeing this level of corruption. Folk being preyed upon by the very people that were supposed to protect them. Oh, they could understand a little skimming or a bit of freeloading - they were pirates after all - but this sort of grinding, terror-based control never failed to ignite the urge to _do something._

The villagers had been wary of the crew at first, but it had been the sight of Zoro’s three katanas that had sent them groveling to the earth, begging the “noble lord’s” forgiveness. Even Sanji’s normally fast wit on “things to needle Zoro about” failed him at the sight of abject fear. The crew had barely managed to convince the townsfolk that they weren’t going to butcher them all and were in fact, just here to buy some supplies when the “protectors” arrived.

Four swordsmen, large and well fed, a cringing runner dogging the heels of the leader. “So, where’s this pirate crew you came begging to have us defeat?” The man’s gaze swept the Straw Hats. “I see nothing but animals, women and weaklings!”

A sword callused hand landed on Luffy’s shoulder right as the rubber man had been about to draw breath to launch an attack. “I’ve got this.” His voice was flat and dead, signs that the swordsman was beyond angry and Zoro’s eyes were fixed on the approaching quartet. The dark bandanna was already in his hands and his head held that very slight tilt he had picked up after his time in Alabasta, the one that said _I’m listening_.

If the oncoming four had been less complacent about their world view and more practiced in sensing chi they would have know something was very wrong with the man striding their way. They were just informed enough to recognize the oncoming swordsman as Roronoa Zoro and completely unprepared when the white katana sheared their swords in two with a single strike. Then the red came around and killed three of them.

A pitiless demon stared down at the fourth, the youngest and weakest of the lot. “Run. Go tell your _shishou_ that I’m coming for him.” Without even a look back at his crew, Zoro stalked after the fleeing man.

“Should… should we let him go like that?” Chopper’s nervous gaze bounced from one nakama to the next.

“No.” Luffy sighed and shook himself a bit. “No, he’ll be fine.” The Captain’s gaze swept the market square. “Oooh! Meat! Sanji! We should get lots of this!”

Sanji sent one last look up towards the vanishing swordsman and pulled hard on his cigarette. “Don’t eat it before we buy it again, Luffy. Nami-san,” and the cook was all gracious mannerisms and adoration, “if I could possibly avail my poor self of your superb bargaining skills and glorious presence?”

“And hefty wallet?” The navigator arched her brows.

“Ah, the delightful Nami-san is so perceptive!”

“Yes, yes. Just have them send me the final tabs and I’ll dicker then.”

An hour and a half later, there was the distant thundering crash of a building coming down. The wary townsfolk watched as the small group of pirates paused and laid a series of bets down with each other, something to do with a number of liters. Within twenty minutes after the last bet, the swordsman came walking back into view, a bag over one shoulder and a sword in his free hand. Several shell shocked men were following at a very respectful distance.

Zoro paused next to Nami and handed her both the bag and the sword. “Our cut and make sure Tashigi gets this when Smoker shows up here eventually.” He paused, watching as Chopper came trotting quickly out of the apothecary, headed for the blood covered swordsman. “Don’t bother, none of it’s mine. I’ll be on the ship.”

Nami juggled the bag and sword for a moment as Zoro strode off. The townsfolk had gathered furiously around the surviving members of the school Zoro had just decimated, angry growls rising from their throats as it quickly became apparent that none of them were unscathed and all of them were unarmed.

Robin relieved her of the sword, allowing Nami to investigate the contents of the bag. She made several pleased noises, Zoro really was learning what to take as prizes these days. Almost made up for the fact that the blood betting pool was going to go to Zoro, as he always won whenever he came out of combat unhurt. Ah well, she’d just have to claim it as payment for his debts.

“It’s a lovely sword.” Robin murmured next to her, turning the grey sharkskin saya over in her hands as she half drew the blade. “I’m sure the master sergeant will be pleased.”

Nami nodded thoughtfully and held up a rather nice piece of jade. “The Marines will have their hands full for a while putting this place back to rights.” It was practically a running joke these days, how Smoker and his crew always seemed to arrive just after the _Going Merry_ had slipped away to put everything back together again. It almost seemed deliberate… Nami snorted and shook her head. Silly thought.

Sanji edged around the knot of villagers gleefully trouncing the remaining swordsmen with Usopp and Luffy towing a cart behind him. “I’ve finished up with the provision shopping. I’m going back to the ship and store it all. Probably take most of the afternoon, maybe through the evening. Luffy’s already scouted the local eateries and there’s a rather lovely looking café.” With a winsome smile at the pair of women he handed over the tally and began to saunter off towards the ship, taking charge of the small cart.

The other five watched him go. “I guess Zoro’s still pretty angry if Sanji doesn’t want us on the ship.” Chopper whispered, fiddling with his hat.

“They better not do any major structural damage again,” Usopp said darkly.

 

By the time Sanji reached the ship, Zoro was standing bare-chested on the deck, pouring bucketfuls of seawater over his body, sluicing the blood off him in bright pink and red streams. True to his statement to Chopper, none of it appeared to be his.

“It’ll take me about a half-hour to secure the stores.” Sanji commented as he headed towards the raised pilothouse. With the sea stone locks and catches that he and Usopp had installed two months ago on the Merry’s food stores, Sanji hadn’t had a single successful raid on his stocks, though three times he’d come into the galley to see a passed out captain in front of his refrigerator, one hand still on the handle.

“As if I cared, love-cook.” Zoro snapped, continuing to clean himself off. Sanji sighed, ah well, it had been worse. Zoro was at least speaking this time.

Zoro closed his eyes as the water poured over him, washing away the blood as he wanted it to wash away the memories. It had been a very long time since he’d challenged a school with the express purpose of breaking it, the last time had been before Luffy had swept him up. He’d actually been glad that he’d long since outgrown the need to prove himself that way.

This hadn’t even been a challenge. It’d been a _joke_. Maybe two years ago, he’d have been defeated, before Alabasta, he might even have had trouble. He hadn’t enjoyed it, the sudden terror on their faces as they realized that he couldn’t be stopped, that their swords were nothing to him but shards waiting to be broken. He’d removed that twisted _shishou’s_ head, broken the school’s board, taken the one sword he knew someone else would appreciate, scooped up what Nami would ask about and leveled the entire dojo. It had taken four swings to bring the building down. Still not as good as Mihawk, then.

But the short, decisive fight left him edgy, unfulfilled. He had nothing but contempt for those he’d defeated, a true swordsman tested their worth by competing against equals, challenging the stronger. Preying on the weak was cowardly, he’d felt dirty just walking into the school. Demon-splitter had been busy today, he had used Kunia’s sword only to break, not wishing to stain it with their filth.

He put down the bucket and drew the white katana, sighting down it’s edge looking for any damage. There was none, the edge as clean and sharp as it was this morning, as if he had not just used it to shear through tempered steel again and again. He focused his chi down the blade, feeling it like an extension of himself, his will and desires transmitted effortlessly to it. And then he _listened_.

The deep endless thrum of the ocean, life beyond life. _Merry’s_ steady pulse, a gallant little thing with hope in her breath, pride in her soul. Sanji, flesh, blood and bone, utterly human and quietly confident in himself, his skills. Sanji, who wasn’t out to prove himself, there was nothing for him to prove anymore. His dreams were elsewhere… he was… _safe_. Safe to quarrel with, fight with and then turn his back and fight others with, to allow inside his defenses… ah.

Sanji rarely brought back his purchases by himself, not when he could connive Usopp or Chopper to lend a hand or hoof. Who knew, probably better than anyone, how much Zoro sometimes simply needed to turn himself loose against another person without that final fatal step happening. Perhaps at one time it might have been Luffy, but Sanji had been the one to take up the gauntlet, to fight back where Luffy would have just laughed and offered a “sorry”.

Sanji who was here, alone. And all the water in the world wasn’t going to cleanse him the way the cook could.

 

It was a few things that alerted Sanji, the slight change in the lighting from the open door, the gentle creak and flex of the _Going Merry’s_ planks, a shift in the atmosphere of the room, the flare of _danger_ that skittered along his spine. He was dropping his shoulder and lashing out with his foot before his conscious mind had even registered the other man’s intent, the solid contact of his shoe’s sole along the metal blade all the confirmation he needed. Zoro was looking for a fight.

They spun apart, Zoro coming up into a low guard, Sanji rolling into a more aggressive stance. Only the white sword had been brought out, Sanji absently noted the other two leaning against the railing outside the door. Interesting, Zoro was upset and edgy but apparently not at the level where the Merry tended to need heavy repairs afterwards. He probably wouldn’t even have to move this struggle outside.

Sanji opened with a fast flurry, testing Zoro’s guard. Four were solidly blocked, but two kicks were only deflected, one of them scraping down the length of the blade in a move that Sanji had to reverse rapidly out of or suffer some… important damage.

“ _Touché_.” Sanji grinned, circling around the other man. His pulse was accelerating, a light sheen gracing his throat. He removed his tie and flipped the first two buttons of his shirt loose while darting and blocking Zoro’s countering strikes. Fast and efficient with each trying stroke, he pushes Sanji the way no one else can, with the swordsman he’s become better, faster, stronger than he’d ever thought he’d needed to be.

And then with a flickering twist, everything froze, the blade hard against Sanji’s neck. Not the flat, or the reverse edge, but the blade. With enough pressure behind it that Sanji fully expects to look down and see the blood pouring from his opened throat. But there’s nothing but the razor’s edge and a maddening, shivering tickle of Zoro. By his will alone, Sanji is alive, chi dancing down the sharp edge of flawless steel.

The sword moves slowly, the edge dragging against flesh, playing along the pulse line. Sanji’s eyes close of their own volition, the groan shivers down the sword’s edge as he tilts his head back, baring more of his skin for this touch.

I could kill you but I don’t. You are helpless before me and I hold. I give you pleasure instead of pain.

Against this, Sanji has always been vulnerable. Zoro feels his chi sliding along the cook’s, stroking, inflaming, arousing. Through three feet of steel he caresses slick flesh, the edge pushing against the line of the shirt, severing the threads that hold the buttons, leaving the skin unmarked as continues to slowly bare it for his eyes. The very point circles once, twice around a perfect nipple and he smiles as it hardens, peaks against the chill of the metal.

He’s brought them both off this way before, separated save for the blade. Every thing Sanji feels is transmitted back, the cook’s desire feeding his own. He’s quite sure his own teacher never meant for Zoro to use the ability to cut nothing quite like this. The shirt is sliding off now, arms revealed for the katana to slide down, curving slyly past the tendons, flickering along a wrist, a teasing push against the palm, absolute trust as he caresses the most vital, important parts of the other man.

The blonde’s legs are about to give out on him, Zoro pauses and sends a thread down the connection. _Kneel_. The sword twitches along the outer edge where thumb meets wrist, reinforcing the command and knees buckle, sliding down into a splayed and more stable stance. Sanji is gasping now, free hand fluttering, wanting to move and grip something substantial.

The swordsman slides behind Sanji, blade dancing along the long line of Sanji’s spine, halting at the faint scar where the cook had nearly died, protecting his nakama from an avalanche. It’s still just slightly more sensitive than the rest of his back and a whine slowly rises out of Sanji’s throat as Zoro caresses it, paying homage to the choice the cook made.

They’re both achingly hard now and it’s not from battle lust. This is what he needed, this is what Sanji gives him, desire that stems not from pain, longing that comes from needs of the flesh only, pure, untwisted and the sword is falling away, he doesn’t require it now as his mouth descends to awaiting lips, strong, competent hands rising to frame his face.

Through acceptance, trust, honest desire, Zoro is disarmed. Sanji pulls him down until the swordsman is straddling his thighs, using all his skill in seduction to stoke what they have into frenzy. It’s good with the sword, it’s better with just them. He manipulates them out of the rest of their clothing, mouths never parting, tongues clashing and curling around each other as Sanji steals away the last taste of blood and salt water in Zoro’s mouth, replacing it with the sharp bite of the cloves he’d been smoking for the past hour because he knows that Zoro loves that tang.

One hand is pushing Zoro backwards and down until shoulders hit the smooth wood of the deck, the other is slick with the oil Sanji set aside earlier, slipping around the swordsman’s erection, coating it, shifting and pulling as broad hands bite at his hips. He rises over the swordsman and sheaths him in one fluid motion, his groan rising and meeting the gasping sob stuttering out of Zoro’s throat, the first sound he’s uttered since this began.

Zoro’s hands holding him up, his hands sliding along broad shoulders, Sanji back rounds and he rides the other man, setting the pace, pulling Zoro apart as effortlessly as the swordsman did to him earlier. It never lasts as long as Sanji wants, they’ve teased each other too close to the edge and Zoro is arcing off the deck as his climax shakes through him, pulling the blonde along with him with the remnants of the chi feedback that always lingers even after the swords are sheathed.

There is a few moments of nothingness and Sanji comes back to himself, curled over Zoro’s body, aligned snugly from hip to shoulder, his head tucked against Zoro’s chin as if it had always been there. There’s a soft rumbling sound that might be a pleased purr, or the beginnings of a satiated snore. Either way, it means Zoro wants Sanji to stay for a bit and Sanji doesn’t mind that at all.


End file.
